Crossroad Blues
by Toringtino
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki would do anything for the man he loved, his partner, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. But how far was too far? Was there a limit on that love? Ichigo didn't think so, and now it's landed him in a whole heap of trouble. GrimmIchi. ShiroIchi. AU Yaoi.
1. Devil's Trap

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, nor Supernatural, which is where this new idea originally stemmed from. For those of you who watch SN, you'll notice the rather famous word for 'kill' that the gorgeous Winchester boys love to use crop up. I just had to, couldn't help myself.**

* * *

><p><em>.:Crossroad Blues:.<em>

Chapter One

_'Devil's Trap'_

This was sick. He was sick. And yet there was no denying it. His body was burning, his limbs trembling, aching for the touch of that…that _monster_.

Sighing, one Ichigo Kurosaki sat up, the twenty-one year old male scrubbing a hand down over his face as the bed sheets slipped down his bare, peach hued torso to pool in his lap. It was no use, he wasn't going to get any sleep, not when thoughts of alabaster skin, of sharp nails raking his skin and sharp teeth scraping precariously over his throat plagued his mind.

There was something wrong with him. There had to be. When he'd made that deal all those months ago, that psychotic bastard had done something to him, he just knew it. He should've known better than to trust a creature of his calibre, but he'd been desperate. His whole life had been torn to shreds right in front of his very eyes, and, as selfish as it may sound, he wasn't ready to let go just yet.

A soft snore from beside him had Ichigo glancing over to the form beside him. A healthy expanse of sun-kissed flesh hugged around hard, corded muscle and powerful limbs graced his vision, and he couldn't help but smile. The dank motel room they'd rented out for the night was enveloped in darkness, but that didn't matter. Ichigo knew every dip and line of the twenty-five year old man's body in intimate detail, knew that that unruly mess of hair currently splayed out over the pillow was a rich, electric teal, and that the orbs hidden behind closed eyelids were the most stunning shade of aquamarine blue he'd ever seen in his life. And it all belonged to one man; Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

It was Ichigo's firm belief that he was an Adonis amongst men, even though the older man would always argue that it was the other way around. Ichigo would scoff and call him ridiculous; Grimmjow would roll his eyes and call him an ignorant brat. With bright, bordering on luminous, orange hair that sat in a mop of untameable spikes, ochre eyes that flashed a honeyed gold in just the right light and a lean body decorated with taut muscles wrapped up in peachy skin, Ichigo had never seen himself as anything special. Unless you count his uncanny knack for attracting all kinds of trouble, whether it be some punk-ass humans making a sloppy dig at his hair, or otherworldly beings baying for his head on a platter, that is.

Reaching over, Ichigo quietly laced his fingers through Grimmjow's hair, loving the oddly silky feel to the colourful strands in spite of the amount of hair gel the other used. The familiar, spicy musk that was all Grimmjow assaulted his senses, making his heart thrum and his skin tingle in the most pleasant kind of way. He'd known the older man for the better part of his life, ever since they were kids and had found out that the shadows under their beds and the creatures from their nightmares were not to be taken lightly. Ichigo can still remember the day he told his father about the 'monster in his closet', and, instead of reassuring words of being young and naïve that most other children would receive for such unwarranted fears, his dad had instead handed him a 9mm Beretta 92 and told him to always aim between the eyes. He'd lost his innocence on that night.

He was only six years old.

Grimmjow gave a contented sigh in his slumber as Ichigo scratched his nails over his scalp, and the younger male had to bite back a chuckle. For the kind of shit they went through on a daily basis, it always surprised Ichigo that the blue haired man could sleep so well, so deep. But then again, not a lot fazed Grimmjow. He took to their life like a duck to water, he could kill and slaughter and exorcise like he'd been born to do it, and would never bat an eye as creature upon monstrous creature fell at his feet in a hail of blood and rock salt. Ichigo on the other hand, whilst perfectly capable of holding his own and ganking whatever foul being so happened to endanger the lives of others, was unfortunately cursed with a conscience. He often teased Grimmjow, saying that he must have been born without a soul, even though such a thing was completely viable and of no laughing matter. Ichigo actually knew that better than most.

Clutching at his chest suddenly, Ichigo pushed all such thoughts aside. It made him sick to his stomach to think of what he'd done, of everything he'd given up in one heart wrenching moment of pure desperation. And yet, as he gazed at the peaceful rise and fall of his partner's chest, he couldn't bring himself to regret the decision. Because that's what they were, partners. Brothers in arms. Lovers. Call it what you will, but there was no one in the world Ichigo cared for more – his family aside, obviously. He would do anything for the older man to keep him from harm, and he knew that the feeling was more than mutual on the other's part.

But how far was _too_ far? Was there a limit to that love? Ichigo didn't think so, as was proven by his hasty decision, one he'll admit to not putting much thought into before it was executed. Shit, he could still hear _his_ voice, pushing him, taunting him into sealing the pact.

"_Is he worth it, mortal? Worth handin' over body an' soul for? Is one man really worth…eternal damnation?"_

Ichigo's answer had been swift and absolute. _"Without a doubt."_

A manic smirk the likes of which no human man could ever hope to imitate ripped across pale lips at his response, and Ichigo had been able to feel the sheer amount of animated energy, the absolute power the pale other possessed rolling off him in dark, lung constricting waves. He remembers how eerie golden orbs had gleamed and a blue tinged tongue had run across razorblade sharp canines. He can remember in agonising clarity how it felt to have the script of his contract seared into his very skin, the terms and conditions clearly outlined so that there could be no qualms when it came to pay up. The feeling of icy cold fingers and black painted nails trailing over his skin, of rough lips claiming and dominating every inch of his shuddering body, of deadly teeth piercing and ripping his flesh still haunted his dreams.

He didn't complain, and he didn't struggle. There was no point in doing so, and he certainly had no desire to back down on his pact. The other hadn't been gentle, but then again Ichigo didn't suspect that he would be. What a fucking ridiculous notion.

When it was over, when Ichigo lay heaving for a breath and praying that he hadn't lost too much blood, the deal was sealed. As was his fate.

"_Three years, mah Pet. Then am comin' ta collect."_

Ichigo threaded his fingers through his own hair and pulled harshly. Three years in return for his lover's life, that had been the deal. As the days on the calendar slowly counted down, as he crossed each one of in his head and his final days on earth drudged their way towards their conclusion, it was sometimes hard to keep up with his calm and collected façade he plastered on for his lover's sake. And, if he was honest, his own sake as well. But, when he thought back on _that_ fateful day, the one where he'd lost everything worth living for and subsequently played his soul, his _very life_ away like a bad hand of cards, his reasoning became startlingly clear once more…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Roughly 2 years and 10 months ago, Illinois, America<strong>_

Grimmjow was being reckless again, as is true to his nature, being the 'shoot first, ask questions later' kind of guy that he is. He'd rushed into the job without waiting for Ichigo to back him up, and he'd paid the ultimate price for his irresponsible actions. Ichigo had bore witness to the gruesome demise of his partner, had watched with ice cold blood filing his veins and wide, panic-stricken eyes as the monster they had been chasing for the better part of a week eradicated Grimmjow's existence in just under a minute. _One fucking minute._

Admittedly, they'd both been careless, had assumed after the stories and eyewitness accounts they'd racked up from the townspeople depicting 'vicious animal attacks' that they were chasing after your bog standard werewolf. So when they eventually corned the man in broad daylight, they hadn't been prepared for him to suddenly transform.

They both watched, cursing their own damn stupidity as layer upon sickening layer of skin started to shed, until they were faced with something that was neither man nor beast, but a horrific combination of the two. It had never even occurred to them that they might be dealing with a skinwalker.

They'd been so fucking foolish.

Grimmjow had caught the feral glint in the animal's eyes as it clocked his orange haired lover, those supernatural orbs raking over the younger male like he was some sort of delectable chew toy. He didn't think twice about his reaction. Shoving Ichigo roughly to the side, he charged the beast. Forget that it was towering over even his large, 6'3" frame. Forget that it had curved, lethal looking claws and serrated teeth flashing between a long muzzle. It would be a cold, cold day in Hell before Grimmjow saw the fucking monster lay even one bestial finger on his pretty lover.

Ichigo had screamed at him to stop, to wait for him. But by the time he'd scrambled to his feet, the breath having long since left his lungs after the jarring collision with the tree Grimmjow had propelled him into, it was too late. One ferocious swipe with a large, mutant paw saw Grimmjow stumbling back, his black t-shirt tore to strips and the tanned flesh beneath stained with crimson as the open gashes bled profusely.

Ichigo could feel his heart lodging in his throat as the creature barrelled into his lover, pinning him to the brambled floor of the forest clearing they were in. The sound of Grimmjow's pain filled cries were making Ichigo's reactions frantic, and therefore careless. He'd never heard his partner make such noises before, and, as his whole being shook and gave rise to infectious goosebumps, he knew that they would forever plague his nightmares. Whether he lived to be thirty or a _hundred_ and thirty, he would never forget the sobering sound of the blunette perishing.

Pulling out his trusty Beretta with trembling hands and a bated breath, Ichigo finally managed to sink a silver bullet straight through the monster's left temple. It kicked it immediately, unable to withstand the lethally poisonous metal, and slumped forward onto the body of his blue haired partner.

Panting harshly, Ichigo ran to Grimmjow's side, hauling with great effort the carcass of the skinwalker from atop of him. He sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the older man.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he cursed, removing his light jacket to press against the jagged wound in the blunette's neck. "Fuck, Gr-Grimmjow…"

A chilly, lightly shaking hand pressed down weakly on top of his, and Ichigo gazed down into dull, cerulean blue. His heart clenched violently when it took several failed attempts for the older man to speak.

"How…how bad is it?" he asked, his usually bold and confident voice so miserably cracked and listless.

Ichigo swallowed back against the bile bubbling up in his throat and applied more pressure to his wound. "It's not that bad. You'll be fine, Grimm. Just you wait. I'll call Urahara, he'll know what to do."

Grimmjow would have rolled his eyes if he'd been able. Ichigo always had been a piss-poor liar. "Ichigo…"

"We'll get you patched up in no time," Ichigo carried on, ignoring the condemning tone of the other. "I'll bet by tomorrow morning you'll be back to eating greasy junk food, working on that stupid car of yours and hitting on every hot girl in sight because you know I hate it, and then we'll–"

A cold, bloodstained hand gently cupping his cheek had Ichigo cutting off midsentence. "Ichigo, stop," Grimmjow husked, coughing as the words scratched harshly at his trachea. "We both know I ain't…_ughn_, shit…I ain't makin' it out'a this one alive…"

"You…I…" Ichigo struggled to string even one coherent sentence together, his eyes prickling against the hot tears that threatened to spill over and blurred his vision. "Don't say stuff like that, idiot! I told you already, you're going to be fine! I'll get you to uncles, and we'll fix you up. I won't let you die on me, Grimmjow." He dipped his head to press a soft, anguished kiss to his lover's forehead. "Pl-Please…don't leave me…"

A large, callused hand captured his chin, angling his face down so that dry, chapped lips could seal over his own in a bittersweet kiss. Ichigo latched onto Grimmjow's biceps, his grip probably much too rough considering the dire amount of pain the blunette was currently suffering, but neither said a word.

The contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and Ichigo will never forget just how cold he had felt in that moment, how completely lost and utterly helpless he felt as Grimmjow uttered those final words and his body went slack, his bloody hand falling from his cheek to land with a muffled thud against the earthy forest floor.

"I love you, Ichigo…my…Berry…"

Ichigo blinked once, twice, the thick tears he'd held back now flowing free and heavy down his cheeks as he watched Grimmjow's chest stutter to a sudden stop and his eyelids flutter closed, forever concealing those beautiful, aquamarine eyes from him.

"Gr-Grimm?" He gave his shoulders a firm shake, his ochre eyes darting over the man's features for even the tiniest glimmer of life. "Grimmjow? No. Nonononono…_Grimmjow!_"

His voice was quivering uncontrollably and rising in volume as he picked up the blunette's head to cradle against his chest, one hand cupping his face and the other frantically petting through those electric teal strands. He rocked them steadily back and forth, refusing to believe what his heart and soul were quietly telling him was true.

Burying his face into Grimmjow's hair, Ichigo took a long inhale, forever imprinting his spicy musk into his mind, before releasing the breath in one final torn and heart filled cry to the heavens above.

"_GRIMMJOOOOW!_"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Present<strong>_

Yes. That's why he'd done it, why he'd given up literally _everything_ he had to give – because he simply couldn't live without his partner, his brother and lover. _His Grimmjow_.

The blue haired man had been shocked, to say the very least, when one day he came to not to the endless, agonising suffering and searing pain only one who's actually served a sentence in Hell would know, but instead opened his eyes to find his orange haired Berry wrapped around his limbs, holding him in a crushing embrace like he was afraid to ever let go again. Which wasn't entirely inaccurate.

Grimmjow had asked and begged and threatened to know what in the name of holy good fuckery had happened. He wasn't stupid, in spite of his fiery Berry's protests to the contrary. He knew that no one, _no one_, got a free pass out of the Pit, and that Ichigo was hiding something from him, something big and unbelievably idiotic no doubt. But Ichigo just wouldn't give it up, would tell him time and time again to just be thankful that he was back and that they were together again. And so Grimmjow relented, swearing that one way or the other he _would_ find out what his pretty lover had done to get him back, but that he would do it whilst enjoying his newfound freedom from the depths of Hades.

Little did he know that he wouldn't ever find out. Ichigo would never allow it, not when he knew that as soon as his time was up the hot-blooded blunette would just go out and try the exact same thing he had. He couldn't risk that, couldn't consent to Grimmjow having to endure what he had. Dead or alive, it would break his heart to know that he was the cause of any suffering, that he was the reason he'd be forever bound and at the mercy of the very creatures they put their lives on the line day-in and day-out to obliterate from the face of the earth.

Skimming a hand over the exposed skin on Grimmjow's back, a rueful smile splayed across Ichigo's lips. He was such a hypocrite, and he knew that Grimmjow would kick his ass straight into next week if he knew what he'd done to bring him home, but none of that mattered. He was just happy to have the pigheaded, temperamental brute back. Sure the older male was a right handful at the best of times, and a downright fucking pain in the backside at the worst, but Ichigo honestly wouldn't have it any other way. He loved the blunette more than he would ever know, and that's all there was to it.

Only it wasn't that simple. Not anymore.

Ichigo had been marked, and the milky skinned monster he'd bargained with knew exactly where to find him no matter where he went in the world, and he in return knew how to summon the hellspawn. Never in his life did he think he'd end up as the bitch to a servant of Hell. He'd spent his entire life banishing demons, werewolves, spirits, and other such 'mythical' creatures to the fiery pits of Hades, and now not only did he find himself in cahoots with one of them, in an unbreakable bond sealed with his own body, but he actually…_liked_ it, found himself shivering in anticipation of the brutal treatment when the demonic creature came a-calling.

It was wrong, it was twisted and it was sick, but it was true.

Sucking the corner of his bottom lip into his mouth to worry between his teeth, Ichigo spared one last glance at his completely oblivious lover before drawing back the covers and swinging his legs out of the double bed. Quickly but quietly throwing on some clothes – a pair of dark denim jeans and a long sleeved black thermal shirt he suspected was actually Grimmjow's when it drowned his hands and exposed his collarbone – he stepped into his black and white Timberland boots at the door and made his way out into the nippy, midnight air.

Wrapping his arms around himself for warmth, he ducked to the right and headed round to the car park situated at the back of the small, off-road motel. His feet felt heavy and scuffed across the gravel, but his wildly hammering heart betrayed his otherwise sombre and stiff movements.

The parking lot was scarcely populated, only an old red Chevy truck and a beat up silver Nissan Sentra joined the gleaming black, 1967 Chevrolet Impala. Ichigo could feel an imminent eye roll coming on. Grimmjow _loved_ that car, his "baby girl". Ichigo argued that it was bordering on an unhealthy obsession, to which Grimmjow always replied with a forceful blow to his person before making him apologise, yes, _apologise_ to the damn hunk of metal. He can still recall the look of absolute anguish on the blunette's face that time he nearly totalled it after a side on collision with a semi truck a few years back. He'd spent months working to restore it back to its vintage glory, and refused to speak to the younger male for an entire _week_ after he'd suggested the blunette just scrap it and sell the parts.

Chuckling to himself, Ichigo shook his head and ran his hand delicately over the polished roof of the car, making sure not to apply too much pressure in case he left a streak and Grimmjow tore him a new one. _Again_.

Not willing to delay the inevitable any longer, Ichigo sighed once more and reached into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the handle of his flick knife. Pulling the weapon out, he couldn't help but notice how comfortable and secure it felt within the palm of his hand, but shrugged the feeling off as nostalgia, recounting the number of times the small blade had saved his skin.

Pressing the release button, the soft click of the blade springing from its sheath managed to sound deafening within the deserted confines of the open lot. Steeling himself, Ichigo pressed the cold metal to his left palm and curled his fist around it before yanking the blade back, making a shallow incision across his palm. He winced at the dull, throbbing sting, scrunching up his nose at the coppery tang the crimson liquid oozing from the cut gave off.

Wiping the blade clean on the leg of his jeans, Ichigo securely sheathed it before placing it back in his pocket. Letting his eyes slip closed, he took a deep lungful of the stagnant, frosty air and dipped his hand through the opening in the top of his shirt, pressing the bleeding wound over the gothic style '_0_' emblazoned over his right pectoral. And then he waited.

It didn't take long, the shift in the atmosphere so palpable he could almost taste it. A dark, foreboding energy swirled around him, licking at the exposed skin on his face and neck and setting his blood on fire. He forced himself not to react – hard as it was – when two pale arms curled around his waist from behind.

"Mmm. Hiya, Pet," a silvery, echoic voice sounded from behind him. The sound of it made his toes curl, from dread or excitement though, he wasn't quite sure. "I wasn't expectin' yer call so soon. Not tha' am complainin' r'nuthin'."

It took a moment, but Ichigo finally located his own voice. "_Cero_."

"Maa, what've I told yah, Pet?" A reprimand in the form of a sharp nip to the nape of his neck was dealt, but it had quite the opposite effect on Ichigo and he shivered pleasantly. "We're well beyond formalities now, wouldn't yah say, Ichi? Call me Shiro."

"I'd rather not," was Ichigo's stony reply as he pivoted in the other's arms in order to face him.

Every time was like the first time, Ichigo's reaction never changed. Cero, otherwise known as Shirosaki, was the crossroads demon that Ichigo had traded his soul to in exchange for the safe return of his fallen lover – and what a demon he was. Standing a good few inches taller than himself, Ichigo guessed around 6' or so, the man – if you could call him that – was a sinfully beautiful being. He had a slender, lean physique, not unlike Ichigo's own, all of which was covered in flawless, alabaster skin. His hair was as white as crisp, fresh snow, styled in a mess of spikes and tinted with silver strands that made it glow iridescently under any natural light. The demon had a sharp toothed grin the likes of which a great white shark would be proud of, polished black fingernails that could extend into deadly sharp instruments of destruction, and the manic kind of glee when faced with bloodshed that only a creature of his calibre _could_ be happy about. He was impeccably dressed, just like always, in a fine, tailored black suit, the shirt of which was open just far enough to show a teasing amount of skin that Ichigo knew was as smooth as marble.

But, in spite of all that, it was his eyes that really gave away his true character and were, without a shadow of a doubt, the most entrancing thing about the hellspawn. Toxic, obsidian black sclera blanketing orbs of pure, glittering gold. No matter how many times they met, Ichigo could never shake off the violent, magnetic pull those molten pools held over him. Whether it was a demon thing or not, Ichigo couldn't be sure, but the sensation was always the same, like he was falling head first into those depths never to be found again.

Shirosaki pulled the human close, nuzzling his face into the inviting warmth of the young male's neck. A slow smirk pulled at his pale lips when the boy shuddered against him. His nose wrinkled in distaste however, when his sensitive sense of smell picked up the foreign scent of another enveloping his tasty treat.

"Yah smell like him," he growled, tightening his hold around the mortal. "Yer absolutely saturated in his scent, an' it's not jus' tha' shirt yer wearin' either. Hn. Tha' blue haired kitty must'a had his grubby lil' paws all over yah, ne Pet? Did'e fuck yah good an' hard tanight?"

Ichigo scowled, a hot, prudish blush creeping up his neck to pool in his cheeks. "Shut up! He's my lover. If we want to have sex, then that's none of your business."

"I beg ta differ," Shirosaki replied, drawing back to survey those bright ochre eyes he enjoyed seeing so much. "You belong ta me now, after all. Which means tha' everythin' yah do is my business, _Pet_." The demon inwardly crowed with pleasure when the boy's eyes narrowed dangerously at the nickname purred off of his inky blue tongue. Tracking his fingers through tangerine tresses, he grinned. "Tell me, Ichigo, why'd yah summon me here if yah've already had yer fill, hm? Was he not enough ta satisfy yer needs? Did yah call me out ta fuck his scent right off'a tha' delicious skin of yers?"

"Bastard," Ichigo hissed, his fists clenching in the lapels of the demon's suit. "Don't you dare talk about him like that!"

"Easy, Pet. Put yer hackles down before yah hurt yerself. I was jus' curious, is all. Ta be honest, I don' really care _why_ yah summoned me. I'll take any excuse yah got jus' ta get inside tha' beautiful body a'yers."

Before Ichigo could respond, Shirosaki snatched up his left wrist, his off-colour tongue poking out to lave a long, wet trail over the open wound. A wanton moan bubbled up in Ichigo's chest as the demon sucked greedily on the shallow cut and he couldn't stop his body from reacting accordingly as he practically melted into Shirosaki's one armed embrace.

Shirosaki hummed approvingly at the submissive reaction of the human and quickly discarded the bleeding extremity in favour of claiming those rose petal soft lips instead. The orange haired male struggled at first, just like always, before promptly surrendering, just like always. Shirosaki wasted no time, not that he had any to spare really – he was a busy servant of Hell, after all – and hurriedly parted the mortal's pliant lips with his tongue, sweeping the muscle inside to take a hungry taste of his pet's uniquely saccharine flavour.

He would never admit as much out loud, not to anybody, but he was really rather taken with the human. He was spunky, had a foul mouth and just enough bite to keep him on edge. Sure he could end the pathetic wretch's life with a simple snap of his fingers, but it was that feisty, highly spirited attitude that kept him craving more and more of the delectable mortal. He truly was something else, and Shirosaki had absolute no intentions of letting his fiery pet get away from him.

Ichigo was just getting into the demanding kiss after his initial resistance – something that worked as a shoddy guise to fool himself into believing that he actually didn't want this, didn't want _him_ – when the atmosphere around them suddenly warped and fluctuated, the unmistakable flare of demonic power washing over him like a dose of cold water. He was somewhat startled to find himself suddenly lying beneath the demon in the backseat of the Impala, when just seconds ago he had been crushed up against the passenger door outside. You'd think that by now he'd be used to the demon transporting him places; a vacant room within whatever establishment they'd found themselves in that week, a cubicle stall within the nearest public restroom, or even Shirosaki's 'personal quarters'. That was a rare occurrence, and Ichigo had never had the guts to ask the pale skinned demon exactly where those quarters where located. He greatly feared he wouldn't like the answer. But every single time the transgression of time and space left him breathless and trembling, and the further they travelled, the worse it hit him.

Ichigo stilled when he felt the demon's teeth rake across his jugular, hard pressed between the inbred reaction of fight or flight, and the completely irrational impulse to beg for more. The latter quickly won out, and he found himself tilting his head back, baring more of his throat for the demon to do as he will.

Shirosaki growled when the boy displayed the peachy column of his neck to him, and rewarded him by lapping his tongue over his bobbing Adam's apple before sucking hard on his pulse point. A heady moan issued forth from his beautiful prey's mouth, the delicious sound rocketing straight down Shirosaki's spine and giving new life to his already straining dick. Still, there was one thing that was bothering him, and it just had to go. _Right now_.

Letting his painted nails extend slightly, Shirosaki hooked a finger in the collar of the human's shirt and slashed the fabric straight down the middle, the resounding ripping sound like music to his ears. Ichigo, on the other hand, was less than impressed.

"Dammit, Cero," he groused, glaring up into those molten orbs. "That was one of Grimmjow's favourite shirts."

Shirosaki snarled as a wave of jealousy washed over him. "Don' yah dare say his name in my presence. Yer body an' soul belongs ta me, not him, so I can do whatever I damn well please. Yah'd do well ta remember that, _Ichigo_."

A dark burst of pure power radiated off of the demon then, the tendrils of which wrapped in a constricting cocoon around Ichigo's body in a twisted parody of a lover's embrace. It was easy to forget sometimes that the seemingly normal being hovering above him was actually one of the deadliest creatures to ever manifest itself on God's green earth. Shirosaki could oh so very easily erase his existence from the record books; he wouldn't even break a sweat doing so – and honestly? For some perverse and twisted reason, that notion only turned Ichigo on all the more.

Reaching up, Ichigo grabbed the demon by the back of the neck and hauled him down into a deep and fervent kiss that was all nipping teeth, battling tongues and throaty moans. Fevered hands fisted in hair and explored skin whilst blunt nails scratched over scalps and down chests. Shirosaki could have purred in satisfaction. He loved it when his human pet got all needy and frantic, mewling and arching into him like a wanton whore who just couldn't get enough.

Slender fingers tugging impatiently on the hem of his black shirt had Shirosaki reluctantly drawing back from the boy's greedy mouth, and the demon was almost floored when he gazed down at his flustered prey. Beautiful ochre eyes had clouded over with a lust so thick he could almost taste it in the air, giving them a rich, chocolate brown hue that had the searing coil in his stomach tightening to the point of pain. Fuck, the mortal boy had absolutely no idea just how damn tempting he truly was.

"What is it, Pet?" he asked with a wicked grin once he recomposed himself enough for speech.

Ichigo tugged at his shirt again, the passionate look in his eyes speaking volumes. "Clothes. Off. Now," he commanded, inwardly berating himself for the breathlessness of his voice. "Make them disappear."

A sly smirk replaced the demon's mischievous grin at that, and he bowed his head. "As yah wish, m'King…"

In spite of just asking for it, Ichigo still found himself gasping when their clothes were suddenly gone, allowing for their heated bodies to rest against one another, skin-on-skin. Both men gave a groan, Ichigo's low and rumbling, and Shirosaki's purely carnal, as they moulded against one another and their rock-hard arousals ground together.

Shirosaki couldn't help but grin like a madman when he saw the gothic zero sitting proud and bold on his human's chest, and bent down to trace his tongue in a sensual path over the permanent ink. Ichigo's neck arched, his eyelids drifting closed as his fingers delved into snowy tresses, tugging gently in encouragement as that sinful tongue licked lower and lower until finally flicking teasingly over a dusky, pebbled nipple.

"_Nghn_, fuck…" Ichigo breathed, rolling his hips up into the other's. "Hu-Hurry up, Cero. I need to get back before I'm missed."

Shirosaki hummed in consent. As much as he'd love to spend all night teasing and riling up his gorgeous, volatile human, he had places to be and souls to condemn. Ah, the work of a crossroads demon was never done.

"Aye, Pet, I hear yah." Pressing his fingers to pink, kiss-bruised lips, he gave the mortal a sultry wink. "Go on then, you know what ta do."

Not needing any further encouragement, Ichigo promptly sucked the digits into his mouth, smirking around his mouthful when the demon gave a feral growl as he rolled his tongue around the fingers, nipping playfully every now and then as he coated them liberally.

It didn't take long for Shirosaki to lose his waning patience, and he hastily removed his fingers from the warm confines of the teasing Berry's mouth. Enacting his own revenge, he slowly trailed the slick digits down the human's chest, circling around his navel before tickling down over firm abdominals in a feather light touch. The breathy little mews of bliss spilling from the boy's lips were making the demon itch something horrid to be sheathed balls deep within the familiar, tight warmth of that puckered entrance already, his cock throbbing with excited anticipation.

"Mmmghn, Shiro…please…"

And there it was. His name, purred out so fucking beautifully it was a wonder the mortal wasn't speaking in a different language altogether.

Not possessing the tolerance to pussyfoot around, Shirosaki dipped not one, but two fingers into the beckoning heat of the human's twitching hole, groaning low in his chest when those velvety walls clamped down around the intrusion whilst simultaneously sucking him in deeper.

Curling and probing his digits within the boy, Shirosaki's glittering golden pools drank in the palatable sight of the mortal as his breaths escaped in harsh pants, as orange tinted brows pulled together in a pleasure concentrated frown and parted pink lips emitted all the kinds of wonderful sounds that would make ample jack-off material over the coming weeks. Damn him all over again, Ichigo was just so fucking…well, _fuckable_.

Scissoring his fingers, Shirosaki dipped his head to suckle keenly on the boy's neck, his desire increasing tenfold when lean arms wrapped around his neck and long, peachy fingers yanked on his hair.

"_Hah_, Sh-Shiro…" Ichigo moaned, hitching his right leg around the demon's waist to pull him even closer. "Hnn…G-Get on with it already!"

Shirosaki chuckled, grazing his teeth menacingly over his human's throat, delighting in the submissive reaction of the boy tensing up underneath him. "Well, aren't'cha jus' full of demands tanight, Pet? If I didn't know any better, I'd say yah'd forgotten jus' who's in charge around here…"

To further emphasise his point, he let an intimidating influx of spiritual pressure roll out, the heavy aura blanketing across the orange haired male writhing beneath him. Ichigo's breathing hitched at the sensation, his ochre eyes snapping open to lock with the piercing gaze above him. Goddamn it, they were doing it again, dragging him down and under until it felt like he was losing himself.

Without thinking, he yanked the milky skinned demon down into a searing kiss, his tongue instantly delving into the oddly cool interior of the hellspawn's mouth. He licked along the lightly ridged roof and behind dangerously sharp teeth, before dropping the wet muscle to tangle fiercely with Shirosaki's superiorly skilled one.

"Fuck me, Shiro," he murmured hotly against insistent, pale lips. "Please…I need it…"

His thinly stretched patience snapping with the fragility of a goddamn toothpick at the urgent words of his favourite pet, Shirosaki didn't disappoint, hastily removing his fingers before immediately replacing them with his entire, dripping length in one brutal snap of his hips.

Shirosaki gave a guttural growl of unadulterated bliss when warm, wet walls hugged around him like a silky glove, whilst Ichigo fought back a strangled cry of pain against the powerful invasion. Damn alabaster prick had some serious restraint issues.

Gently rocking his hips, Shirosaki tried to silently convey to the profusely cursing human that he was impatient to begin. A feral grin snaked across his lips when said mortal locked his ankles behind his back and mumbled a "Just go, asshole!" through gritted teeth.

"No need ta tell me twice," he grinned, using one hand to grip the young male's hip and the other to plant beside his head in order to steady himself as he started up a shallow thrusting.

Several minutes in, and a savage increase in tempo, the alabaster demon found that one spot, that sensitive bundle of nerves that always had his peachy human bowing his spine, curling his toes, spasming around him, and calling out–

"Oh fuck, Shiro! _Yesss!_"

–Yeah, _that_.

"Mm, yeah. Tha's what I wanna hear right there. Scream fer me, Ichigo…"

Ichigo would have rolled his eyes at the frankly lurid tone of the other, if his vision wasn't so frazzled by the blinding spots of white dancing behind his lids as his prostate was stabbed with frightening accuracy over and over again.

As Shirosaki plunged in and out of that addictive warmth, he couldn't help but count himself lucky that it was his domain Ichigo had come to that night so long ago, that it was his crossroads he'd buried his little box of personal possessions in and hence himself he'd summoned to strike a deal with. Usually said deals were sealed with nothing more than a simple kiss, the contract then engraved in full on the flesh of the mortal, seared there invisibly unless the mortal wanted to challenge any aspect of the deal, in which case the demon holding the contract is summoned and the script brought up in full. But one measly little pucker wasn't going to be nearly enough for this particular demon, not when he caught sight of mile long legs, tasty peach hued skin and determined ochre eyes. He'd wanted a proper taste of the human, and, being the deviant kind of immortal he was, bartered such an opportunity right into the bargain.

He rammed himself into the mortal hard, eliciting a harmonious cry of pleasure from the depths of the male's lungs that had the demon closing his eyes in pure ecstasy. Of course, one taste just hadn't been enough to quell his ever rising thirst for the boy, and he kept coming back for more. In the beginning, Ichigo had fought him every single step of the way – the outcome never faltered though, with the hellspawn fucking the orange haired mortal's brains out whether he consented or not – and then slowly, ever so slowly, things had changed. Ichigo started summoning him, started initiating their heated contact and begging for more and more and _more_.

Heh. It would seem that he had gotten under the human's skin just as much as it applied the other way around. And one day, that beautiful body was going to be all his. No more blue haired lover, no more sneaking around and unwanted interruptions. Oh no. Ichigo would be his, body and soul.

_For all eternity._

Ichigo had no idea what the psychotic albino was thinking, but whatever it was worked out in his favour as the demon started slamming into him with a wild abandonment, each and every snap of his hips angled in just the right way to rub torturously at his pleasure button, making him buck and moan out in ways that he wasn't even aware that he could.

Shirosaki was in his own personal heaven. The scent of Ichigo's lust was so thick and heady it filled up the entire car, tantalising his taste buds and pushing him to thrust harder, faster. He could feel his malicious spiritual energy swirling around them as they hurtled toward their pinnacle, toward the mind-numbing release they both craved. He could feel his nails elongating into deadly talons as he dug them into sweaty, peachy skin, could feel the familiar ache in his gums as his teeth sharpened into serrated points, just itching to be embedded deep within his human's delicious flesh.

Ichigo cracked an eye open to see the tangible desire practically dripping from the alabaster hellspawn, those golden orbs flashing brilliantly in their obsidian backdrop. Lacing his fingers through silvery locks, he pulled the being's face down to the juncture between his neck and shoulder, positively shivering with an eager sense of anticipation when a hot tongue swiped across his too hot skin.

"I know…what you…want," Ichigo stated, his sentence broken with every vigorous thrust of the demon's hips. "Do it, Shiro…I want to…feel it…"

His human was too much sometimes. Smirking, Shirosaki nipped playfully at the proffered throat, before swiftly sinking his teeth into the mortal's neck. The first drop of salty copper against his tongue was all the incentive needed to kick-start a greedy series of ferocious sucks. Ichigo's head snapped back at the erotic feeling of Shirosaki feeding from him, his fingers and toes curling as the dual sensations proved to be too good, too euphoric. With a startled cry of blinding rapture, the orange haired youth came hard and fast between their sweat slick bodies, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he struggled to draw in a ragged breath of much needed oxygen.

Shirosaki bit down harder on the boy's neck when he felt those velvet walls clamping down around his engorged cock, his precision aimed snaps becoming erratic as the searing coil in his abdomen finally ruptured and he was milked dry by the human's convulsing channel. He came with a truly animalistic snarl, buried deep within his panting prey, his hips still moving in a lazy parody of his earlier work as he rode out his elated bliss.

The suffocating aura that had unwittingly leaked out of him during climax slowly receded as he regained control of himself, giving his poor human room to suck in sharp gulps of air as he slumped down against him, supporting most of his own weight on his forearms so as not to crush the fatigued boy.

Capturing swollen pink lips in a languid kiss, Shirosaki purred pleasantly. "Y'know, I think I needed tha', Pet. Work's been hellish this week."

Ichigo gave a dry chuckle, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Tch, _hellish_. Hilarious, Cero."

Shirosaki scowled, curling his lip in distaste. "Maa, what's this? Back ta tha formalities already? How cruel, Pet. Anyone'd think yah were jus' usin' me fer mind-blowin' sex."

"And what if I am?" Ichigo inquired, lifting his arm to reveal a raised brow.

Shirosaki narrowed his eyes, growling softly as he retreated from the welcoming warmth of his human's hole. "S'not like it matters. Yah'll be all mine soon enough." With a click of his fingers, he watched as Ichigo's stunning ochre eyes screwed shut, his teeth bared against the sudden pain as the terms of his contract inscribed themselves across his bare arms and torso, the words searing into his skin and glowing red hot. "Yah see, Pet? Right here…" He used a black tipped finger to point to the wording just above his navel, tracing the slowly cooling letters in an almost loving gesture. "Three years, Ichigo, an' then yer sorry ass belongs ta me. Yah've already had over thrity-five months, leavin' yah with, oh…_eighteen days_ ta enjoy the wonders of earth before I come ta collect yah. _Permanently_."

Ichigo grit his teeth and averted his gaze off to the side. Like he needed the hellspawn to tell him that; like he hadn't spent the past three years of his life watching the clock and counting down the days.

"I don' know about you, Pet, but am rather lookin' forward to tha' day," Shirosaki continued, a feral, toothy grin warping his features into something sinister and cruel, reminding Ichigo with astounding clarity _exactly_ what it was he was dealing with. The reality hit him like a vicious slap to the face. "Oh, an' I wouldn't go tryin' ta run away r'anythin' equally stupid. Yah _really_ don' wanna meet tha pup I call 'Fido'. Trust me."

"I'm not a coward!" Ichigo surprised them both by snapping, his jaw clenching alongside his fists. "I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to this. I won't go back on our deal, and I won't try to run, either. You have my word."

"Mm. Good," Shirosaki hummed, placing a chaste kiss upon his human's thoroughly abused lips. He took the time to remove the contract from his body, as well as any and all condemning marks he'd left during their rampant 'coupling', as was part of their agreement. "Am glad we understand one another, Ichigo. I think yer gonna like it in Hell, servin' as mah own personal bitch. I can guarantee yah, tha perks are great."

Shirosaki offered the clearly uncomfortable mortal a saucy wink, but with the way Ichigo's innards were bunching and roiling, and his mind whirling with so many emotions he didn't know _what_ to feel, he could only chew pensively on the inside of his cheek and pray to God that those weren't tears pricking hotly in the corners of his eyes.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Grimmjow would ask his younger lover where his shirt had gotten to, to which Ichigo would reply with a shrug and suggest that maybe a rabid fangirl of his Adonis good looks had broken in and was currently using it as a comforter. Grimmjow would then roll his eyes and kiss his partner deeply, reassuring the orange haired male that he was the only one he would ever be able to stick long enough to maintain any semblance of a relationship with. Ichigo would return the kiss with love and passion, but inwardly feel little more than nauseating regret and tortured anguish.<p>

_How was he ever going to tell Grimmjow the truth?_

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aaah. I feel much better now. *happy sigh* That idea has been whirlwinding through my unrelenting creative mind fer fuckin' _days_ now an' it was drivin' me nuts. I've been unable ta concentrate on anything else because of it, so hopefully now tha' it's down on, uh, screen...I can concentrate on other things. Perhaps. Who knows?**

**I blame it all on gettin' caught up with Supernatural. I swear, I can't watch anything anymore without goin': "Ooo, now _that_ would make an interestin' fanfic!" It's super crazy, an' am tortured with it all. It would also seem that I am completely incapable of writing anything shorter than like, seven thousand words. Gift, or curse? Hn. *ponders***

**But anyways! I hope tha' any an' all of yah that read this can derive some entertainment value from it, an' enjoy it as much as I did when expelling it from my mind ^^ I don' know if I should leave it as it is, or turn it into somethin' more... *shrugs* Literally no idea. I'll cross tha' bridge later, when I can be bothered ta put on some wellie boots ta compensate fer the inevitable fall off said bridge. Eep.**

**So yosh~ Please enjoy at yer own peril**

**Ciao fer now mah sweets**

**Toringtino~**


	2. Sin City

**Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or Supernatural. The only explanation I have for such an atrocity is that the world is undeniably cruel. Well, toward me at any rate.**

* * *

><p>Chapter Two<p>

_'Sin City'_

"There ya're, fellas. One coffee, black, and one tall, ice water."

Ichigo muttered his thanks as he took the glass of water, the condensation gathered on the sides causing him to grip it a little tighter than would otherwise be necessary. Grimmjow merely grunted his own appreciation. He was still ticked off at losing one of his favourite shirts, the one that had 'mysteriously disappeared' into thin fucking air. Grimmjow wasn't exactly a sceptical man; the kinds of nightmarish creatures that belonged in myths and folklore he'd encountered over the years saw to that. But a shirt growing legs and waltzing right out of their motel room? _Yeah fucking right._

Dressed now in dark denim jeans and a long sleeved white thermal, Grimmjow glanced up at his orange haired lover decked out in a baby blue polo and purple skinnies. He felt his lip curling. The wee fucker had something to do with it, he was certain. He'd been too quick to dismiss the issue as 'stupid and unimportant', and, having been the one to peel it off of his hunter sculpted torso himself just last night, there really was no one else to blame. The fact that his peachy skinned partner was hiding something from him, quite probably a lot more important than a vanishing tee, was driving the older male to distraction. He found the same question plaguing his brain that had been doing so ever since he was drudged up from the pits of Hell…

_Just what in the name of holy good fuck was Ichigo hiding?_

A soft, feminine cough to his right had the blunette reluctantly drawing away from his tortured thoughts, his piercing aquamarine orbs flicking up to the waitress he'd only just realised was still standing there. Grimmjow cocked a blue tinted brow, waiting for the punch line.

"Um, sorry to bother you," she started shyly, tucking a long strand of blonde hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail behind her ear. Grimmjow resisted the gnawing urge to roll his eyes and shoo her on. He really wasn't in the mood for chit-chat. "I couldn't help but notice you pulling in earlier, and I was just curious…is that your car?"

At this, Grimmjow immediately brightened, flashing the girl a winning smile like she had just complimented his newborn babe. "Sure is, doll," he drawled, coffee forgotten as he turned his attention to the large window out front, the Impala taking up position dead and centre. "She's a 1967–"

"A 1967 Chevrolet Impala, with six-cylinder V8 engine and enhanced Coke bottle styling," the waitress finished, shifting nervously under the incredulous gaze the blunette was now gawking her way.

Across the table, Ichigo could only sigh. His lover was probably getting a hard on right about now. "Close your damn mouth, Grimm. You look like you're about to start drooling…"

"So, ya like cars…" Grimmjow continued like he hadn't heard the younger male, peering at the pin-badge on the young woman's blouse. "Aimee, is it?"

The blonde, Aimee, inclined her head, a small dusting of pink blushing her cheeks at the deep baritone that sounded her name out like it was made of honey. "My dad's a real grease monkey, y'know? Whilst all the other girls my age were playing with dolls and crimping their hair, I was always elbow deep in motor oil and camshafts." Aimee blushed harder, inwardly berating herself for unconsciously uttering the word 'shaft' in front of the sexy, blue haired man. Coughing to cover her own awkwardness, she hastily added, "Of course, vintage engines are the only ones worth looking at these days."

Grimmjow shook his head in awe of the girl. Seriously, if he wasn't so hopelessly attracted to dick, not to mention already madly in love, then she'd surely be Mrs. Grimmjow Jaegerjaques before the day was out. Smirking, he pillowed his chin on his fist, giving the girl an appreciative once over. Long legs barely covered by a mid-thigh denim skirt, trim waist with a sliver of midriff on display thanks to the obviously too short, sleeveless black shirt she wore. Two buttons left strategically unfastened showed off a moderate bust covered in lightly freckled, tanned skin, the girl paying the price of such a slim body with an average chest. However, with the way the small globes were pushed together to become the focal point, Grimmjow highly suspected a push-up bra to be at work. Probably helped a lot with the tips.

Silently fuming at where the blunette's gaze had blatantly settled, Ichigo kicked Grimmjow hard under the table, earning him a muted growl. Ichigo glared at the bastard, silently communicating his palpable displeasure at the lewd ogling, to which Grimmjow merely gave a sly smirk before turning his attention back to the cutely blushing Aimee.

"I can see that ya clearly appreciate beauty when ya see it," Grimmjow all but purred at the blonde, his grin broadening when she bit her lip and timidly shrugged her shoulders. "I gotta confess, I have much the same talent," he pressed on, giving her figure a pointed look. "We should get together some time, y'know, discuss attractive bodies an' what not. Cars, of course…"

Aimee gave an animated nod, biting back a squeal of delighted approval, whereas Ichigo's ochre orbs were gleaming a furious gold. "Grimmjow…" he warned, his voice a low rumble as his fingers curled even tighter around his glass.

Figuring he'd pushed his fiery lover quite far enough, Grimmjow snatched up a napkin from the dispenser in the middle of the table, and, sloppily scrawling a number across it in black ballpoint, pressed it into Aimee's eagerly outstretched palm.

Giving the blonde a saucy wink, he let his hand linger within her own just a tad, before retracting it back again. "Gimme a call, cutie."

Completely oblivious to the seething orange haired male currently envisioning her untimely, gory demise, Aimee smiled, slipping the napkin into the pocket of her apron. "Th-Thanks. I will!"

Grimmjow watched as she skipped off to the back, disappearing into the "Employee Only" section to call up her friends no doubt, before swivelling back into the proper position in his seat. His aquamarine pools zeroed in on clearly livid honey-ochre, taking note of a clenched jaw and flared nostrils. Now, he knows that Ichigo is trying to intimidate him, to make him fear retaliation for his flirtatious display or some shit, but honestly? All that irate look darkening his handsome, peachy features did was turn him the fuck on.

Smirking to himself for rather successfully ticking off his delicious Berry, Grimmjow picked up his mug and took a long, smug sip of his coffee. However, the haughty look soon disappeared alongside his first mouthful, his nose scrunching up in distaste.

"Fuck. Its gone cold," he grumbled, glaring at the blackish-brown liquid like it was conspiring against him.

Ichigo scoffed, folding his arms as he leaned back in his seat. "Well, that's what you get for chatting up staff instead of paying attention to what's important."

Grimmjow arched a brow. It was quite obvious that Ichigo wasn't referring to the now tepid beverage. "Aw, s'matter Ichi? Ya feelin' neglected over there?"

"Hardly," Ichigo answered, giving a derisive eye roll.

Grimmjow chuckled at the petulant answer, leaning over the centre of the table and the dozens of scattered newspapers that littered the wooden surface. "If yer feelin' unacknowledged, my lil' Berry, what say we ditch this joint an' find a more…_secluded_ area, hm? I'll soon show ya how much I appreciate ya…"

Scowling, Ichigo ignored the excited twitch his cock gave in response to the sultry suggestion, and instead motioned to his glass of ice water with his head. "Please don't make me douse you today."

Knowing from firsthand experience – once involving a high-powered hose at a carwash when he'd 'accidentally' felt up the attendant – that Ichigo's words weren't just an idle threat, Grimmjow wisely chose to back off, settling back into his seat with a withering glare shot at his younger lover. Sometimes he couldn't help but worry about Ichigo's libido diminishing; before he'd died, usually all it took was a few well placed touches and a racy word or two, and his pretty Berry would be all over him, outright begging for harder and faster within a few scant minutes. Now it seemed that he had to work a lot harder to get those peachy thighs spread and wrapped around his waist.

He knew that Ichigo thought him something of a simpleton, a brute who thought with his dick more often than his brain and obtained any answers he sought with a mean uppercut instead of words, but he really wasn't as naïve as he was letting on. He knew that all the dots were connected somehow; Ichigo's reluctance to tell him how he sprung him so effortlessly from Hades, his uncharacteristic, overly nervous disposition some days, his mannerisms in the bedroom…they were all pointing to the same, frightening conclusion, but fuck if Grimmjow could figure out what the hell it was. As each new week came and went, Ichigo seemed to be getting worse, and it was scaring Grimmjow in ways he hadn't experienced since he was a little boy. Whatever it was, it was coming, and soon. He didn't know _how_ he knew, he just did. It was almost as if there was a dark, ominous cloud hanging over their heads, the weight of the sinister aura pressing down hard on their shoulders – and there wasn't a damn thing Grimmjow could do to stop it. He was fucking useless against it because of his infuriatingly tight-lipped lover, and he hated that, hated going into a fight blind just because _someone_ was being a stubborn _asshole_ and undoubtedly trying to 'protect' him from something…

But _what_, goddamn it!

"Grimm…? Oi! Grimmjow!"

Grimmjow snapped his head up at the sound of Ichigo's voice, pulling his fingers from his mouth when he realised he'd been unconsciously biting at his nails. Ichigo frowned at the blunette.

"Shit, you really zoned out there for a second," Ichigo said, a small hint of concern lacing his words. He felt his heart clench uncomfortably as he gazed into troubled cerulean eyes, his hand automatically reaching out across the table to his partner. "What is it, Grimm? Is everything okay?"

Grimmjow drew in a long breath, releasing it slowly through his nose as he made a point of refusing his lover's attempt at comfort. "Shouldn't I be askin' _you_ that?" he retorted, causing Ichigo's frown to etch deeper across his brow and retreat back to his own side. How many times had they had this conversation now? Ichigo was willing to bet it had hit three digits quite a few months ago.

"Don't start this again, Grimm," Ichigo sighed wearily, his ochre eyes pleading.

But Grimmjow couldn't. Once the tap was open, the words came flying out relentlessly until he was run dry. He'd always been like that. "I just don't get it," he started, Ichigo dropping his head into his hand as soon as the words left his mouth. "I don't get _you_ anymore."

Ichigo lifted his head at that. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, take right now fer example. I was throwin' some of my best moves at that waitress chick, an' I barely got a peep outta ya!"

Ichigo deadpanned, not getting what the big deal was. "Yeah, so?"

"_So?_" Grimmjow growled, feeling his impromptu anger fluctuating quite violently. "Ya used to get so riled up when I did shit like that! Ya used to tell them that I was unavailable, or married, or even that I was gay. But now, nada. The fuck's the matter with you? D'ya just not give a shit anymore, that it?"

"Don't be so fucking ridiculous," Ichigo replied, his tone heavy with venom at the implication that he didn't care. "I keep telling you that nothing's wrong. Seriously, Grimmjow, I'm fine. Maybe I'm just too used to your shenanigans to actually pay attention anymore. Ever think of that?"

"Pfft. The only reason I even bother hittin' on skanks is because it pisses ya off. If ya don't start blushin' or cursin', then there's really no point." Grimmjow took another deep breath, trying to soothe his rattled nerves. He needed a fucking cigarette, and he needed it yesterday. Crossing his arms on the table, he leaned forward, staring down his younger lover. "Are ya sure you're okay? I know ya think I'm an idiot an' all, but you can always talk to me about the important stuff. Ya know that, right?"

Ichigo rubbed a hand over his eyes. "I said I'm fine, didn't I? Can we please just drop it already? I really don't feel like arguing in public today."

Feeling a harsh sting at the obvious rebuke, Grimmjow sneered. "Tch. Whatever." Snatching up one of the papers he'd been perusing when they'd first arrived at the small diner, he threw it across the table to his lover. "Three guys inexplicably vanished whilst out on a campin' trip in the woods. Police found traces of blood and shredded clothing, but no sign of the bodies. They said it looked like they'd been dragged through the bushes by a 'wild animal'."

Ichigo skimmed over the article, taking in the pictures of the three young men that had gone missing with a troubled glower. "Wendigo?"

Grimmjow shrugged, scratching at his lightly stubbled chin. "Sounds like it. I mean, it's a secluded place, dark, overgrown, an' littered with lots'a opportune hidey-holes to stash still breathin' bodies. Just about perfect fer snatchin' up young, tasty treats who don't know any better."

Ichigo hummed his concurrence, tossing the paper back on the table as Grimmjow began into the specifics of their newest assignment; what weapons they should load up on, how long it was going to take to get to Minnesota from their current location in Colorado, where they could stop over for the night, etc etc. To be perfectly honest, Ichigo had stopped listening a good thirty seconds ago, lost instead in his own inner turmoil.

_Seventeen days_, that's all he had left. Just over two weeks to walk as a free man on the face of the Earth. A cold, tremulous shiver racked his body at the notion. Fuck, his time was running out at a frankly dizzying pace now, and it was all he could do to smack a smile on his face and just enjoy his limited time up here on the surface. He wasn't going to lie, not even to himself – he was fucking _terrified_. Terrified of what was going to happen to him _down there_, of what that sadistic fucker of a demon was going to do to him, and, probably worst of all, how Grimmjow was going to react when the time for payment finally arrived.

The thought of having to leave his blue haired lover behind for good made him sick to the very pit of his stomach, was the cause of many a sleepless night and made him itch to spend every waking second clung to the blunette like he was a second skin. He would miss every little thing about Grimmjow. All the good stuff, like his seemingly insatiable lust for Ichigo's body and love, his gorgeously expressive aquamarine eyes, his almost manic laugh when really excited about something, the way he would pet his strong fingers through his vibrant orange locks when they lay curled around one another in the glorious afterglow of lovemaking. He would even miss the not so good stuff, like his overly possessive nature that drove him to 'claim' Ichigo when he thought someone else was staring a little too avidly, the way he hustled strangers in pool games for money and nearly always ended up in a brawl because he just couldn't hold that contemptuous tongue of his when challenged, even the god awful habit of his post-sex cigarette that he claims is to stop himself from jumping the younger male immediately after orgasm.

Christ, everything about the man, both positive and negative, was just so positively addictive it was hard _not_ to love him. He'd unknowingly been a goner from the very beginning. Not that he laments the fact or anything…

A sharp smack to the side of his head had Ichigo rethinking that last thought somewhat.

"What the fuck, Grimm!" he grinds out, rubbing at the abused spot whilst glaring heatedly at the blunette.

Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Oh quit yer whinin', Berry, I barely even tapped ya. 'Sides, ya keep spacin' out an' actin' all weird. The fuck's the matter with you? And don't say 'it's nothing', because clearly it's _somethin'_. Now spill it."

"Let's go to Vegas," Ichigo suddenly blurted out, the words formulating and issuing forth before he even realised he'd been _thinking_ about it.

Unsurprisingly, Grimmjow blinked in confusion. "…What? Look, if yer just tryin' to change the subject, then it isn't gonna–"

"I'm not _trying_ anything," Ichigo quickly interrupted, simply running with the unexpected idea now that it was out there. Sighing, he gave his lover a tired look, absentmindedly trailing his finger up and down the length of his glass. "I just want to take a break for a while, y'know? Kick back and relax somewhere fun. I mean, I'm finally the legal age to go now, and it's always been a dream of mine to visit the infamous 'Sin City' before I die."

Grimmjow's bewilderment only grew more prominent. "Before you _die?_ Ichigo, you're twenty-one for fucks sake, it's not like yer gonna pop your clogs tomorrow or anythin'. We've got plenty of time to go."

"I suppose you're right," Ichigo admitted with a small shrug, relaxing back into a position of feigned nonchalance. "I just thought _you_ of all people would jump at the chance to drink, party and gamble all night…"

Completely ignorant to his peachy lover's devious little tactic of reverse psychology, Grimmjow fell hook, line, and sinker.

"It's not that I don't _want_ to go, Ichi, it's just that I don't get what the big rush is. I mean, we have a potential case just two states over, an' usually yer all over that shit, protecting people like yer some sort'a fuckin' human rights activist. I guess I'm just curious about the sudden change a'heart?"

"I'm just…_bored_, Grimm," Ichigo replied with a heavy exhale. "I want to enjoy myself for a few days without having to worry about some filthy, bloodthirsty demon or ugly ass ghoul hell bent on revenge possibly ganking our sorry hides." Reaching across the small table, Ichigo seized his lover's hand in his, lacing their fingers together and squeezing gently. "Is it really too much to ask to go out and see the world without it involving staking some mythical creature through the heart? We've been hunting monsters for most of our damn lives, and all without a word of thanks or any recognition for constantly putting our asses on the line. Don't we deserve a goddamn vacation? A little 'us' time?"

With a sharp toothed grin, Grimmjow pulled Ichigo's hand up to his mouth, brushing his lips over the younger male's knuckles. "Vegas is a good seven hundred miles from here. If we leave now, we'll only need to make one stopover before we hit the strip."

Returning the others zealous grin, Ichigo nodded, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in much too long. "What're we waiting for, then?"

* * *

><p>With yet another exhausting work day finally over, one Renji Abarai, a tall man with long, ruby red hair, a torso full of tribal tattoos and fiery russet eyes set in rugged features, arrived home to his ideological two storey abode, complete with spacious front and back yard, and a white picket fence.<p>

Loosening his tie, he stepped in through his front door, taking in the homey feel and sumptuous aroma of dinner being prepared with a contented smile on his face.

"Rukia, love, I'm home," he called out as he shrugged out of his grey overcoat and hung it up on the rack by the door.

His smile stretched wider as he heard the distinct shuffle of his wife's slippers on their wooden floor approaching. Heh, make that distinct _waddle_. He wouldn't ever say such a thing out loud, for fear of losing a testicle, but being eight months pregnant had given his little lady a very apparent duck-like gait, where she didn't so much walk as she did…totter. He himself found it very endearing, but Rukia not so much. She was a strong and proud woman, and being forced to appear weak and defenceless just didn't sit well with the diminutive woman, even if there was a very justifiable reason for such a thing.

"Ah, there she is, my little Ice Queen," Renji simpered when she appeared in the hall from the direction of the kitchen. Her shoulder length, raven hair had been swept up into a ponytail, highlighting more than usual her big, shining violet eyes. She wore a pair of loose red sweatpants and one of Renji's old shirts, which, even given its enormous size on her petite stature, still strained slightly around her vastly swollen midsection. Renji's heart soared at the sight. "How are my two princesses this evening?"

The redhead soon got his answer…in the form of an incoming projectile. Cursing, he just about managed to dodge the frighteningly accurate throw, sidestepping just in time for the china mug to smash into the door behind him. Shocked, Renji turned wide, panic stricken eyes on his wife.

"The hell, Rukia? Ya damn near took my shoulder out with that!"

"And it would serve you right, ya pig!" was the icy retort, the small raven head storming up to her dim-witted husband. "Where were you today, huh? Answer me, dammit!"

Bewildered, the redhead backed up a step, throwing his hands up in a placating gesture. "I was at work! Where the hell else would I be?"

"At work, you say?" fumed Rukia, standing up on her tip-toes to grab her husband's ear in a deadly pinch.

Renji squawked at the pain as he was effectively dragged into the living room, tripping awkwardly over his own feet as he was forced to bend over to accommodate his wife's tiny height. Coming to a stop at the cordless telephone sitting on an end table beside their leather recliner, Rukia finally released the redhead, her violet eyes constricted to slits as she pointed to the contraption.

"If you were at work all day, like you claim, then how do you explain _this…?_"

Pressing the play button on the inbuilt answering machine, Rukia crossed her arms on top of her bulging stomach, leaving Renji to frown as a woman's voice, quite young by the sounds of it, filtered out into the otherwise quiet room.

"_Um, h-hi…I don't know if you'll remember __talking to me or not, but it's Aimee…we met in the diner where I work today? Uh, anyways…I was really hoping to take you up on your offer, y'know, to talk about, um, beautiful cars or whatever…I'm free tomorrow night, if you're still interested? If you are, please, gimme a call. My number is–"_

Slapping the stupid thing off before she ended up bludgeoning her dickhead husband to death with it, Rukia rested her fists on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for Renji to explain himself.

Meanwhile, Renji was struggling to comprehend just what in the hell was going on. He had never heard that woman's voice in his life before, didn't know anyone by the name of Aimee, and sure as shit wasn't in any diner today! Glancing down at his furious other half, he swallowed thickly at the death-glare he was receiving.

"Well…?" Rukia prompted when the redhead started gaping like a fish out of water.

"Sweetheart, listen," Renji began, his palms becoming uncomfortably clammy. "I don't know what the fuck is goin' on, but I _swear_ I don't know any 'Aimee'! Ya gotta believe me! I was at work all day, even had lunch in the cafeteria…just ask the boys, they'll tell ya! I didn't go to a diner, and I _definitely_ didn't chat-up any waitresses!"

Rukia's stern glower faltered slightly at the sincerity in the other's tone, but her jaw remained clenched. "Then what was that all about? Don't you think it's a little strange that some cheap tramp decided to call _our_ number, hmm?"

"Wrong number maybe?" Renji tried with a shrug. "That's the only viable explanation I can think of. Well, that, and when I was younger, me and a friend of mine used to pick up really ugly chicks in bars, and then give them the other's number so that they'd…"

Renji trailed off midsentence, his eyes narrowing dangerously as images of a certain smug, blue haired bastard flooded his brain. Rukia perked up a slender brow as his fingers curled into fists and he chuckled darkly.

"_Grimmjow_," he muttered, a sly smirk tilting his lips at the childish antics of his old friend. It would seem that he never did grow up. "I'm going to kill that fucker when I see him…"

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><p>Ichigo let out a tired breath as he flopped face first onto his rented bed for the night, his duffle bag of clothes abandoned at the foot along with his shoes and his light jacket strewn out on the floor somewhere to his left. It was around six in the evening and, after nearly nine hours of continuous driving, roughly six done by the blunette and the remaining by himself, he was ready to just pass out for a while before they headed out again in the morning. They found themselves in yet another quaint off-road motel in Utah, right beside the outskirts of Nevada. Ichigo had been sorely tempted just to push it, to pull an all-nighter and gun it to Las Vegas without having to stop, but wouldn't dare risking even a <em>scratch<em> on Grimmjow's 'baby' if he should fall asleep at the wheel. And so, here they were.

He was soon joined by the blunette, the older man tossing his own army style duffle bag into the far corner of the room as he cradled his mobile to his ear and kicked his boots off. Idly wondering who he was talking to, Ichigo mentally shrugged, figuring if it was important Grimmjow would soon let him know anyway. Letting his eyes droop to a close, Ichigo snuggled down in the clean sheets and let his mind begin to drift.

A sharp bark of raucous laughter soon had his eyes snapping open again, and he propped himself up on his elbows to scowl at his loud ass lover. "Christ, Grimm…can't you keep it down for even a second? I'm fucking knackered over here."

"The hell've you to be so 'knackered' about?" Grimmjow snorted, sitting down on the edge of Ichigo's bed. "_I_ did most of the drivin', so _I_ should be the one bitchin' about bein' tired, don't'cha think?"

Ichigo groaned exasperatedly, grabbing a pillow to shove in his lover's face. "Then go lie down and go to sleep!"

"Naw, m'not tired." Ichigo could only roll his eyes. Trust Grimmjow to complain about something that wasn't even applicable to him. "Yo, Berry, listen to this. Shit's fuckin' hilarious."

Putting his mobile on loudspeaker, Grimmjow pressed play on his most recent message, barely able to contain his mirthful chuckles as a certain, irate redhead sounded out through the tiny speakers.

"_Grimmjow, you fuckin' wanker! I know it was you who gave that girl my number today – only you could be that damn stupid! Seriously man, you do remember I have a _wife_ now, right? Rukia damn near had my balls for that lil' stunt, jackass! Please, for the love of god, do not give any more strange women my number! I don't care how hot they are, we're not teenagers anymore!"_

"_What was that about them being 'hot'?"_

"_Shit…I gotta go. I owe ya big time for this, Blue. Remember that!"_

By the end of the message, Grimmjow was cracking up, laughing like a hyena standing on its last legs. In spite of himself, Ichigo could feel his own set of amused chuckles bubbling up in his chest. Poor Renji. His lover may be living in the body of a twenty-five year old, but his mind was little more than ten years old. He wondered if it would stay that way, after he…well. He guessed he wouldn't ever know, but he sincerely hoped that Grimmjow would keep that immature, almost childlike quality about himself. Perhaps it would better help him to move on when he was…no longer around.

Groaning lowly to himself, Ichigo once again buried his face in the mattress, trying desperately to keep the cold, dark feeling of his imminent demise hidden from the blunette. Fisting his hands in the cheap, flower patterned sheets, he shivered. It was like he could feel _him_ standing there, those molten orbs boring into his very soul as that sinister smirk ripped across pale lips. The ghostly feeling of cold fingertips caressing his skin gave rise to goosebumps on his arms and Ichigo screwed his eyes shut, hopelessly trying to block the sinful phantom touch from his mind.

God, he didn't want to go. He didn't want to _die_…

Ochre eyes slowly fluttered open when the cold was suddenly chased away, when the deathly caress was replaced with warm, very much _living_ flesh. Craning his neck to peer over shoulder, Ichigo found Grimmjow still sat on the edge of his bed, only now he had his hand dipped under his powder blue polo shirt, strong fingers gently running over the small of his back. Ichigo arched a brow.

"What're you doing, Grimm?"

"Wassit look like, dumbass?" Grimmjow replied sarcastically, shifting into a more comfortable position to carry out his task. At least, that's what he told himself as he swung a leg over his Berry, straddling the younger male's thighs as he pressed both of his large, callused palms flat against his peachy skin. "Ya seem stressed. Well, more so than usual, anyways. So I thought, bein' the _awesome_ boyfriend that I am, I'd help ya relax."

Ichigo couldn't help but chuckle. "Yeah, _right_."

"What?" Grimmjow frowned, hiking Ichigo's t-shirt up slightly as he followed the curve of his spine.

"Oh, _please_. You've never been able to get through a whole massage without molesting me midway into it."

Grimmjow smirked, raking his blunt nails down the younger's back. "S'matter, Berry? Don't'cha trust me?"

"No," was Ichigo's immediate response, though he folded his arms under his head anyway.

Grimmjow merely rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Just shut up an' enjoy it already."

Ichigo smiled, bowing his back when prompted so that the blunette could bunch his polo shirt up around his shoulders, giving him maximum access to the soft skin of his back.

Less than five minutes in, and Ichigo was positively purring his approval, his brows smoothed out in pure contentment as Grimmjow's fingers sought out and expertly unfurled all of the tension riddled knots hidden within his now quivering muscles.

Grimmjow, on the other hand, was severely struggling to stay his course. His pretty lover was torturing him with those breathy little sounds spilling so freely from parted lips, every pleasant shudder he made vibrating straight through Grimmjow's legs and into his already impatiently twitching dick. Fucker was probably doing it on bloody purpose, just to prove a point. _Bastard_.

A particularly heady moan, coupled with an appreciative wiggle of slim hips when he rubbed his thumbs in small circles over the dip in his spine, had Grimmjow's self-control snapping quicker than a fucking twig.

Rumbling low in his chest, Grimmjow ran his hands firmly from the small of Ichigo's back right up to shoulder blades, fluently following the movement with his body until he had his lips pressed in a hot, open mouthed kiss between his hands. From there he started a slow descent, dragging wet kisses and soft nips down the curvature of his lover's spine whilst his nails grazed down a narrow ribcage. He felt Ichigo shiver underneath him.

"See? I fucking told you."

"Shut up," Grimmjow husked, reprimanding his Berry with a sharp bite to his side. "It's yer own damn fault for moanin' an' groanin' like a bitch in fuckin' heat." Rocking his own hips against his lover's, Grimmjow gave a feral grin at the beautiful little gasp the action elicited. "See that? You've created quite the problem here, Ichi, an' hell if y'ain't gonna fix it."

Ichigo didn't have time enough for a response before he was suddenly flipped over onto his back, his polo shirt yanked off over his head and thrown over the blunette's shoulder before hot lips were on him once more. Grimmjow started low, laving a trail from the very hem of his purple skinnies up to circle his tongue around his navel. Ichigo moaned out when the skilful muscle dipped briefly into the small crevice, before lapping over it and continuing upwards, tracing every hard line and supple curve until warm lips enclosed over his left nipple.

His toes curling in pleasure, Ichigo reached down to delve his slender fingers through silky, electric teal locks, fisting in encouragement as sharp teeth grazed over the sensitive nub. Grimmjow growled at the rough treatment, clamping down around the peaked tissue and revelling in the small hiss the younger pushed past clenched teeth.

Already at his wits end, Ichigo tugged harshly at the blunette's hair, wrenching him off of his chest so that he could crush their mouths together in a needy, heated kiss. Pulling impatiently at the hem of Grimmjow's shirt, the blunette eventually took the hint and broke the contact, allowing Ichigo to hastily pull it off. Before the abandoned material could even hit the floor they were fused together once more, both men groaning into the other's mouth as hot flesh met hot flesh.

Grimmjow could feel his cock throbbing almost painfully as Ichigo forced his tongue past his lips, damn near choking him with apparent urgency until he brought his own up to dominate and push him back again. And it didn't stop there. Ichigo was a fucking _animal_; biting down boldly on his lips before soothing over them with his tongue, scoring his fingernails down his brawny back hard enough to leave red track marks, grinding his hips up roughly into his own so that Grimmjow couldn't remember which way was up.

He had no idea what had gotten into his delicious little Berry, but fuck if it wasn't _fantastic_.

Breaking the kiss, Grimmjow gazed down into hooded chocolate orbs, his heart thrumming wildly at the sight of flushed cheeks, parted lips and a chest rising and falling with erratic breaths. He wondered if Ichigo knew just how fucking delectable he looked right now.

Never big on restraint, Grimmjow growled deep in his chest as he stripped his lover of those infuriatingly tight skinny jeans, his white cotton socks and black Lonsdale boxer shorts soon to follow. Ichigo let a long, wanton moan pour from his kiss bruised lips as the blunette laved his tongue agonisingly languidly up the length his inner thigh, the approving sound soon turning into a sharp inhale of breath as lips and teeth adhered down and the blunette started to suckle harshly.

Once he felt certain he'd left a sizeable mark, Grimmjow released the abused skin, tenderly soothing his tongue over the dark purple bruise. Drawing back, he could only blink in surprise when slender fingers gripped around his biceps, hauling him flush against peachy skin before he was suddenly rolled over onto his back. His lust darkened cerulean orbs watched in muted anticipation as Ichigo popped the button on his jeans, peeling them down his muscular thighs.

"Christ, yer impatient tonight," he commented, his voice gravelly with need as he lifted his hips to help his eager orange haired lover out as he virtually ripped his white Calvin Klein boxers off.

Ichigo hummed, licking his lips at the sight of the blunette's dripping arousal. "I'm not interested in foreplay right now. I just want the main course."

Grimmjow could barely contain his guttural snarl of pure desire when Ichigo sucked three of his own fingers into his mouth, his eyes following every erotic lick and naughty, lewd sounding suckle. "Yer such a kinky little bitch, ya know that?"

Ichigo smirked as he pulled his fingers out, dipping to press a playful kiss to the tip of the blunette's straining erection. His grin tugged even wider when Grimmjow groaned and threw his head back into the pillows. "Yeah, I know."

Licking a wet trail from base to tip, just to be cruel, Ichigo then wrapped his lips around the head of the blunette's cock, flattening his tongue over the slit to gather the beads of precome at the same time as he pressed two of his fingers into the tight heat of his entrance.

Grimmjow couldn't help but buck his hips up into the inviting warmth of his Berry's mouth when he suddenly moaned around him. With great effort he cracked his eyes open, only to witness one of the most sinfully sexy sights he would undoubtedly ever encounter in his life. He gazed, absolutely transfixed, as petal soft, pink lips descended down his rock hard length, his cock disappearing into that moist cavern only to reappear moments later, glistening with his lover's saliva as that head of orange tresses bobbed up and down over him. His cerulean pools then drifted off to the left, where he could see the younger male's arm reached around behind himself, fingering that tight hole that he was fucking _itching_ to be sheathed balls deep inside.

Ichigo was struggling to remain focused, what with the musky taste of the blunette's essence sitting heavy on his tongue, and his own fingers stroking lashings of dizzying pleasure throughout his veins. He could feel Grimmjow's fingernails scratching over his scalp, fisting every once in while when Ichigo gave a keenly hard suck or used a gentle scrape of teeth to heighten his obvious bliss. It wasn't long before he managed to bury his nose in crisp, dark blue curls, swallowing around his frankly monstrous mouthful as he probed his digits further inside himself. And then, rather predictably, Grimmjow's control shattered.

"F-Fuck, Ichi…stop." Ichigo whined in displeasure when he was pulled away from his treat, reluctantly removing his fingers from his stretched pucker as Grimmjow chuckled. "Ne, don't pout Berry. We're gettin' to that main course ya wanted so bad."

Sitting up, Grimmjow hauled Ichigo into his lap, the younger male straddling his hips. With one hand curled around his cock, and the other holding Ichigo's hip to guide him, he wasted no time in carefully lowering his lover onto his waiting arousal.

"Mmmghn, _shit_," Ichigo moaned as he was breached, throwing his arms around the blunette's neck and burying his face into the crook of his neck.

Grimmjow growled out his approval when Ichigo suddenly dropped his hips, taking him in to the hilt in one fell swoop, surrounding his cock in velvety, wet heat. Wrapping his arms in a tight embrace around his lover's waist, Grimmjow pressed soft, loving kisses along the length of his left shoulder, giving Ichigo time enough to adjust to the powerful intrusion.

Ichigo sighed pleasantly, tangling his fingers in Grimmjow's blue locks to angle his head up so that he could lay claim to them in the form of a soul searing kiss. Grimmjow grinned, swiping his tongue over his Berry's lips, coaxing his own out to play as he ran his large hands up and down Ichigo's sweat slicked back.

Ichigo rolled his hips experimentally, chuckling against Grimmjow's lips when the blunette rumbled a warning. Ichigo knew that he was more than eager to begin, and, feeling overly keen himself, he rolled his hips again, really grinding down on the older male's pelvis.

"That'd better be your way of tellin' me to start poundin', Berry," Grimmjow all but snarled, nosing his way down a sinewy neck to bite down harshly on a thumping pulse point.

Ichigo moaned, tilting his head to the side to encourage more of the violent treatment. Instead of answering in words, he used his hands on Grimmjow's broad shoulders to lever himself up, before dropping back down, hard. Taking that as a clear "I'm ready", Grimmjow put his right hand out behind himself for support and bent his knees up slightly so that his feet were planted firmly on the mattress. Gripping Ichigo's hip with his free hand, he encouraged the younger to rise again, only this time he met him halfway, thrusting up with a brutal snap of his hips during Ichigo's descent.

Ichigo cried out in pleasure, digging his nails into the blunette's shoulders as they quickly set a fast and furious pace. Grimmjow could only watch, rapt with an all consuming lust, as Ichigo's head snapped back, his brow furrowed in blissful gratification as he rammed himself hard and deep into that beckoning heat. Every breathy gasp and purring moan was sending shockwaves of vivacious electricity down to his very core, making his dick pulse in the best kind of way.

Thought nothing quite compared to the damn near _scream_ he ripped from his young lover's lungs when he finally nailed his prostate.

"Hah, _yes!_ Fuck! Th-That's it, Grimm…right fucking there!"

Now _that_ sound was downright _orgasmic_.

"Mmm, whatever ya want, Ichigo…"

Not one to ever disappoint his pretty lover, Grimmjow quickly adjusted his angle to ensure he struck Ichigo's pleasure button with every single buck and snap. He could feel sweat gathering on his brow and rolling down his back as that velvety channel began to twitch excitedly around his engorged length, could feel his balls tightening and the blistering coil in his abdomen winding ever tighter.

Ichigo could sense the change in the blunette, could feel his powerful strokes getting sloppy and the biting grip on his hip becoming desperate. Knowing he was hurtling toward the delirious pinnacle himself, he sank his fingers into sweat dampened teal tresses and sealed their lips together in a frantic, messy kiss that was more teeth than tongue.

When his young lover suddenly drew back, lapping his tongue over his top lip in a sensual lick before murmuring a soft and breathless, "I love you, Grimmjow", the blunette completely lost it. The searing bunching in his stomach swiftly unfurled and he came hard with a husky growl, his whole body tensing up as he filled his Berry's spasming canal with his hot seed.

Grimmjow's climax in turn was Ichigo's undoing, the familiar sensation of the blunette's sticky essence flooding into him tipping him over the edge and drowning him in his own elated state of absolute delirium. He came with a cry of his blue haired lover's name, covering both of their midriffs with his own milky fluids as his lungs cried out for oxygen and his limbs quivered.

Sweaty and panting, Grimmjow curled his arms around Ichigo's back, laying tender kisses up the column of his neck as Ichigo gingerly lifted himself off of his now flaccid cock, before collapsing back, taking an unresisting Ichigo down with him.

"That was fuckin' amazing," he sighed contentedly, gently tracing his fingertips up and down the younger's spine as he kissed a sweaty temple. "Oh, an' I love ya too, just by the way."

Mumbling something under his breath, Ichigo rolled off from atop of his lover, stretching out his weary limbs like a lazy cat and grimacing slightly at the moist feeling of his own cum decorating his heated skin. Grimmjow rolled over onto his side, propping himself up on his forearm as he leaned down to steal a chaste kiss from his thoroughly sated Berry. When he drew back however, he couldn't help but frown.

"I really hate that tattoo," he commented, scowling at the bold, gothic zero marring otherwise delicious, peach hued skin.

Ichigo groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I know you do. Shit. Please, can we just _not_ talk about it?"

Grimmjow curled his lip, reaching out to trace his fingers over the permanent ink. "Yer not 'nothing', y'know," he said quietly, remembering the words of explanation Ichigo had given him when he'd first noticed it. "Whether I'm around or not, you'll never be a nothing."

Ichigo swallowed thickly when a menacing, heavy aura suddenly settled around him. The more Grimmjow persisted on touching the damn mark, the more it crushed down on him, constricting his lungs as an all too familiar scent filled his nostrils. Slapping Grimmjow's hand away from the accursed thing, Ichigo glowered up into stunning aquamarine pools.

"Look, it was a stupid and…desperate decision I made in the spur-of-the-moment, okay? I regretted it almost the instant I got it. Can't we just leave it at that?"

Grimmjow really felt like arguing his case a little more, but when pained, pleading ochre orbs gazed up at him through thick black lashes, he quickly decided against it. Grumbling, he moved to the edge of the bed.

"Fine. Whatever ya want, Berry." Locating his boxers, he quickly threw them on before sliding back into his jeans. "I'ma go fer a smoke," he said, routing through his jacket pocket to procure his pack of Lambert and trusty Zippo. "Get yerself cleaned up an' go to sleep. We still got a lot'a road to cover tomorrow."

Ichigo merely nodded his consent as Grimmjow pulled his tan Timberland boots on and disappeared out the door, wincing when it was slammed angrily behind him. He remained silent for a few moments, waiting until he heard the heavy clump of the blunette's stride pace far enough away from the door before he dared to speak.

"You're here, aren't you?" he asked the seemingly empty room.

Waiting with a held breath, it didn't take long for him to receive his answer. Sinister tendrils of pure evil enveloped around him, cold and astringent, not unlike the hellspawn's very embrace.

"How very clever yah are, Pet," that haunting voice echoed close to his ear, making Ichigo shiver. "Yer gettin' awful good at sensin' mah presence, ne?"

A dip in the mattress beside him had Ichigo snapping his head in that direction, only to be met with beautifully hypnotic, gold-on-obsidian eyes.

"You were watching us." It wasn't a question.

Shirosaki chuckled darkly, petting alabaster fingers in feigned affection through luminous orange tresses. "Aye, tha's right. It was quite tha show. Tell me, Pet…" Varnished black fingertips wrapped around Ichigo's chin, drawing his face in close to his own. "Did'ja get all tha' pent up, violent energy from me, hm? Yah seem ta be satisfied, but was it…enough?"

Shirosaki demonstrated his point by dipping his head to his mortal's neck, where he grazed sharpened fangs over the entirely too palatable flesh. His human reeked to the high Heavens of that blue haired wildcat, but, in the grand scheme of things, it was of little consequence what the two got up to. Ichigo would be his property, and his _alone_, soon enough.

Fighting fiercely against the impulse to bare his throat for the demonic hellspawn, Ichigo reached deep within himself and found the strength to push him back. The animalistic snarl the milky skinned demon gave in response sent goosebumps racing across the entire length of his body.

"Just get out, Cero," Ichigo snapped, pulling further away from the other. He found it hard to think straight when he got too close, something he was certain Shirosaki used to his advantage.

Baring his teeth at the command, from a lowly human no less, Shirosaki reluctantly did as he was told, but not before getting a little _compensation_ for his efforts. Shooting his hand out too fast for the mortal to follow with such primitive senses, he curled his hand around the nape of Ichigo's neck and yanked him forward, stealing a swift but bruising kiss from those tasty pink lips. Oh how he would love to devour his mortal pet right here and now.

Drawing back, Shirosaki smirked manically when he could taste the mortal's obvious lust on his discoloured tongue.

"Seventeen days, Pet," he purred, rising from the bed and straightening out his suit jacket. "An' then yah won't have tha power ta refuse me."

Ichigo glared at him before he found himself suddenly alone once again as the hellspawn dematerialised from the room, the flickering waves of sinister energy and a slight musk to the air the only indications he'd been there at all.

Ichigo clenched his eyes shut, curling up into the foetal position as Shirosaki's echoic voice rang out one final time.

"_Tick, tock, Ichigo…"_

It took several failed attempts, and a series of elaborate curses, before Ichigo eventually fell into a fitful slumber to the feeling of cold fingertips running softly through his hair.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Aa, so there we are, chapter two of something tha' I probably could'a just left as a OneShot. Oh well. I highly doubt any of ya'll will complain, ne? An' if yah do, well, tha's cool. Everybody's entitled to their own opinion, right? ^^**

**Christ, it is almost _criminally_ fun ta write this fic. Supernatural is one'a my all-time favourite TV shows, an' putting Grimmjow in the role as Dean is jus' so wonderfully delicious it makes me feel rather dirty... Purr~ I can only cross mah fingers an' hope that am doin' both characters justice.**

**Anywho, hope tha' any an' all of yah that are reading this can enjoy it as much as I did when writin' it - though yah'll be hard pressed to accomplish such a thing, I can assure yah :3**

**Please do enjoy at yer own risk, mah sweets~**

**Ciao fer now**

**Toringtino~**


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